


Among the Leaves

by bloodscout



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Forests, Friends to Lovers, Hiking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodscout/pseuds/bloodscout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little while after that, they stopped for lunch, taking their seats on a rocky outcrop overlooking the forest, treetops as far as the eye could see. A small crop of wildflowers peeked up between a gap in the rocks, and Feuilly pointed out a tiny honeybee sitting on one of the minute flowers. “Look at this little guy, Enjolras!” Enjolras spun around the face the flowers. “Bees are just fascinating.”<br/>Enjolras let out a chuckle. “Every time I see a bee, I think of that Marx quote.”<br/>“The ‘best bee’ one?”<br/>Enjolras nodded. “That’s the one. ‘What distinguishes the worst architect from the best of bees is this, that the architect raises his structure in imagination before he erects it in reality.’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among the Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mercutios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutios/gifts).



> i love the bush and i love les mis, i hope this is enjoyable for you to read!

Feuilly drew a big red circle around the date, two weeks away. Finally, his day off fell outside of exam period or the date of a big rally. Now, the eternal question – what to do.

Enjolras hooked his chin over Feuilly’s shoulder, making Feuilly jump a little, unaware that his friend was watching him.

“What’s so special about that day?” Enjolras asked, pointing at the circle on the calendar.

Feuilly pushed Enjolras off his shoulder and turned to face his friend. “Day off. A _real_ day off.” he answered, the smile writ large on his face. Then, softer, “I was planning to spend it with you? With you guys.”

Enjolras’ face broke into a grin and he pulled Feuilly into a hug. “That’s great! We have to do something fantastic to celebrate.” He squeezed Feuilly tight, then let him go. “I want to make this day wonderful for you. You work so hard, for your job, and for your union, and for our organization. You deserve a break, something quiet and relaxing and,” Enjolras took a breath, his chest swelling with affection for his friend. “perfect.”

Feuilly coughed awkwardly, and rubbed his chest in a vain attempt to get his heart to stop racing. He tried to look away from Enjolras’ sincere smile but his eyes kept being drawn back. He felt his face go red.

Enjolras’ face softened, his eyebrows drawing together. “Have I done something wrong? Is it too much? It’s too much, isn’t it.”

Feuilly laid a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “Not at all.” Enjolras visibly relaxed. “You’re a good friend, Enjolras.”

Feuilly moved away from the calendar to collapse on the couch. They had rescued the old couch from the side of the road when Feuilly first moved closer to the rest of Les Amis, and aside from the Great Lice Debacle of 2013, it had served them better than any other piece of furniture in the sharehouse. “I want to get out of the city, you know? I spend so much time around trucks and concrete at work that I just want to… you know, get away from it all.”

Enjolras came to sit down next to him, sinking into the couch as well. “How about a hike? I know how you hate to relax like a normal person, and my therapist has told me that I need to exercise more anyway.”

Feuilly tilted his head to the side, considering the option. “There’s a nice track that’s about two hours out of the city. We could do it in a day for sure. Are you up for the walk?”

Enjolras pulled his legs underneath him, bouncing a little at the thought. “I’d care for nothing more in the world.” he replied with a grin.

 

+++

 

It was dark when Feuilly got home, carefully opening the door so as to not wake his other housemates. The only light in the room came from the window that faced the street, the lampposts shining a sodium-yellow glow onto the linoleum floors. His boss, knowing that tomorrow was Feuilly’s day off, had kept him late to pack wooden pallets into the flatbed of a truck, so they could be transported tomorrow. Why that particular job had to be done after hours, Feuilly had no idea, but he knew which battles were worth fighting, and as long as he was getting paid, overtime was not one of them.

He slipped his shoes off at the door, heading towards the kitchen. He had promised Enjolras that he would make a summer pasta salad for their lunch during the hike, and he had completely forgot about it until he began to drive home. It was already pushing 11, and the recipe would take at least an hour to make, but he had to push through.

He stood on tiptoes to grab the pot he needed to boil the pasta, pulling it off the high shelf above the stove. In the semi-darkness, he didn’t see the other pan perched on top of the pot, and they both came down with a crash. Feuilly flinched, eyes immediately flying to the bedroom doors of his housemates. He stood frozen in that position for a few moments, pot hanging limply from his hand, until he was certain that the sudden crash hadn’t woken up anyone. He filled the pot with water, and set it to boil on the stove. He thanked the powers that be that he had remembered to do the shopping for this particular dish, and didn’t have to brace himself for the slimeball at the late night grocer on his way home.

He was juicing limes when he heard the floor creak behind him, and turned around to see Enjolras standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking at him with bleary eyes and a frown.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked, raking a hand through his blond curls, usually braided but now circling his head like a halo. The light was bringing out the russet tones to Enjolras’ skin, and Feuilly had to remind himself not to stare.

“I forgot to make the pasta.” Feuilly admitted, gesturing to the pot boiling on the stove.

Enjolras shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. “Trust you to keep a promise at a minute to midnight.” He switched the stove off, watching the bubbles on the water lessen and disappear. “I made the pasta salad yesterday, it’s in the fridge.”

“Oh, Enjolras, I’m sorry I made you do that!” Feuilly exclaimed, shame solidifying in his throat.

Enjolras smiled, lightly punching his friend in the arm. “You cook for us every Friday even when you’ve been shifting hundreds of kilos of boxes at work during the day, I think I can return the favour when you get home at an hour after every other sane human has gone to sleep.”

Feuilly scuffed the toe of his shoe against the floor. “Sorry.” he muttered.

Enjolras threw and arm around Feuilly, pulling him into his side. “Don’t feel guilty, friend.” He began to lead Feuilly to his bedroom door. “Just go to sleep, and rest up for tomorrow morning, ok?”

Feuilly nodded, and bid his friend goodnight, before crawling into the warm embrace of his bed.

 

+++

 

Feuilly woke up with the blue-grey tones of the early morning sky, ready for his day of escape. He and Enjolras packed their bags full of lunch, snacks, and water, and headed towards the train station. Feuilly was filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension – it was a blessing to be able to get out of the city and go somewhere quiet and serene, but the knowledge that it was just him and Enjolras kept niggling at the back of his mind. He had to keep up conversation all by himself, and it was all on him to find the route for the hike.  Logically, he knew that Enjolras would be forgiving of a bit of silence or a few minutes spent studying a map, but that knowledge didn’t make the feeling dissipate.

 

About half an hour into the train ride, Enjolras pulled out his MP3 player and offered an earbud to Feuilly. “I made you a playlist. To thank you for taking me on your trip.”

Feuilly smiled, and took the earbud from Enjolras’ hand.

They spent the next hour in relative silence, Feuilly listening carefully to the lyrics of the songs Enjolras had chosen, with Enjolras occasionally explaining his reasoning behind particular tracks, or pointing out a relevant lyric. Feuilly felt so warm with friendship that it made his heart swell, and he could barely keep the smile off his face when the playlist had finished.

“Did you like it?” Enjolras inquired, wrapping his MP3 back up and returning it to his bag.

Feuilly tried to steady his voice, keeping the joy in his voice to a reasonable level. “I love it, Enjolras.” he replied, and patted Enjolras’ hands where they rested in his lap. “You’re a good friend for spending today with me.”

Spots of colour bloomed on Enjolras’ marble cheekbones, and he turned his head to look out at the mountains passing by through the window. “Anything for a friend.”

Their discussion from then on ranged from anecdotes and stories about their friends, to politics and to art, and it flowed much easier than Feuilly had anticipated. While the apprehensiveness he had felt before had not disappeared completely, it was certainly lessened by the time they had reached their train stop.

 

The sound of the gravel roads crunching under their feet and the bright summer sun kissing their faces was an immediate sign that they were no longer in the city. Feuilly lead Enjolras down the track, and the roads and railways began to slip away, replaced by trees and wildlife. Soon, they could begin to hear the rushing of a creek and the croaking of frogs.

“This place is beautiful.” Enjolras exclaimed, hands brushing along the emerald ferns that arched down onto the track.

Feuilly nodded emphatically, lungs full of fresh mountain air. “Wait until you get to the lagoon.” Feuilly stopped, and motioned for Enjolras to be quiet. He pointed up into the trees, where a small red bird was bringing food to its chicks.

Enjolras mouthed out a silent “wow”, his whole attention focused on the actions of the birds above him. Feuilly took a photo, and urged Enjolras to keep moving along.

“Do you want to head towards the my favourite spot?” Feuilly asked when they were far enough away so as not to disturb the birds.

“That sounds fantastic.” Enjolras replied immediately. “Any spot you love I’m sure I will too.”

Feuilly lead Enjolras down a steep dirt track, instructing his friend as to which rocks he should put his feet on, and where he should sit down and slide.

“How are you so fast?” Enjolras exclaimed, exasperated. “You’re racing ahead and I’m still trying to work out where to put my feet so I don’t fall over.”

Feuilly stopped, watching his friend pick his way down the steep descent. “Tell you what,” Feuilly offered. “Hold my hand. I won’t get so far ahead and you won’t have to worry so much about falling.” He stretched out a hand and Enjolras took it readily.

“Thanks.” Enjolras said with a smile.

After the decline had evened out a little and Enjolras was able to walk on his own, the sound of rushing water began to intensify, and the air around them became wetter, the smell of wet dirt permeating through the forest. Enjolras was the first to see the glittering water through the trees, and had to hold back a gasp when they came across the waterfall spilling over the cliff face.

“I came here for my eighteenth.” Feuilly reminisced, leaning against a metal sign that read _Jellybean Pool_. “It hasn’t lost any of the charm in all these years.”

Enjolras was spellbound, his eyes tracking the flow of the water, sparkling in the dappled sunlight. “Can we swim in it?” he asked, voice as mesmerized as a child in a toy store.

Feuilly grinned, pulling his shirt over his head. “I don’t see why not.”

The friends waded into the water, cool against their sun-warmed skin. When the water was deep enough, Feuilly just lay back and let himself float, listening to the muted sounds of the world around him, looking up at the clear sky above him. It was peaceful, it was quiet, and…

Enjolras was there. The other man swam up to his side, splashing water onto Feuilly’s stomach.

“Come on, old man.” Enjolras teased. “What good’s a pool if you’re not going to splash in it?”

Feuilly righted himself, and took up Enjolras’s offer. The glen was soon filled with the sound of laughter and splashing water. They emerged from the water damp but pleased, and dried off before they continued their walk. They followed a set of roughly hewn stone steps up and behind the waterfall. Enjolras began to breath quite heavily behind Feuilly, obviously finding the steps a reasonable challenge.

“I’m so glad I’m doing this after surgery.” Enjolras puffed out. “I could never have walked this far in a binder.”

A little while after that, they stopped for lunch, taking their seats on a rocky outcrop overlooking the forest, treetops as far as the eye could see. A small crop of wildflowers peeked up between a gap in the rocks, and Feuilly pointed out a tiny honeybee sitting on one of the minute flowers. “Look at this little guy, Enjolras!” Enjolras spun around the face the flowers. “Bees are just fascinating.”

Enjolras let out a chuckle. “Every time I see a bee, I think of that Marx quote.”

“The ‘best bee’ one?”

Enjolras nodded. “That’s the one. ‘What distinguishes the worst architect from the best of bees is this, that the architect raises his structure in imagination before he erects it in reality.’”

Feuilly smiled at his friend. “I can’t believe that you know that off by heart.” Then, he paused. “Actually, now that I think about it… it’s you we’re talking about, I can definitely believe it.” he conceded with a grin.

As Enjolras finished off the last of the pasta, Feuilly pulled an Irish tin whistle from out of his bag.

“Do you mind if I play?” he asked, waving the whistle at Enjolras.

“Not at all.”

Enjolras listened as the haunting notes echoed across the forest, and it seemed as if the trees themselves were singing with Feuilly’s music. “You know just how to make beautiful things even better, Feuilly.” Enjolras whispered, reverence in his voice.

Feuilly’s heart hammered at the compliment, but he focused on the whistle, and on keeping his breathing even.

Enjolras leaned his head against Feuilly’s shoulder, looking out at the expanse of green before him. Feuilly let his music soften into silence, content to just sit with his friend and watch the wind move through the trees. It was times like this, times when they just sat together in silence, completely content with each other’s company, that he struggled the hardest to suppress the peculiar ache he felt around Enjolras.

“Feuilly,” Enjolras began, his voice soft. “I know we still have a bit of a way to go, and I don’t want to ruin this hike for you…”

Feuilly’s heart lept into his mouth. He tried not to think of the worst possible scenario, but his anxiety from before began to creep up again.

“I know that we’re close friends, and that’s very important to me, but today you’ve shown me a beautiful landscape, and I honestly believe that it’s been all the more wonderful with you by my side.”

Feuilly swallowed nervously, and Enjolras pressed himself closer.

“I’d just like to… to do this more often. Not hiking, I mean, but spending time with you like this. Together.” Enjolras started to draw circles on the ground with his foot. “And if you don’t mind, which of course you can say if you do, I’d like to add my own memories to this forest and… kiss you?”

Feuilly smiled, and tried to hold back the giddy feeling that was rising up inside of him. The forest seemed to burst with colour and life. He turned to his friend, took his hand in his own, and answered.

“I’d care for nothing more in the world.”


End file.
